


Red Handed

by SamuelJames



Series: MMOM Entries 2015 [21]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Descriptions of murder, Gen, Masturbation, Serial Killer Ianto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuelJames/pseuds/SamuelJames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing quite so erotic as a kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Handed

**Author's Note:**

> _Title: Red Handed_   
>  _Character: Ianto Jones_   
>  _Rating: 18+_   
>  _Summary: There's nothing quite so erotic as a kill._   
>  _Notes: Written for Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2015._   
>  _Disclaimer: This transformative work has been created purely for entertainment purposes. No profit is made or sought. No copyright infringement is intended._   
>  _Archiving Information: Please do not archive elsewhere on the net._

Her struggle had excited him but not as much as watching the life drain from her, the shocked expression and then the lights going out behind her eyes. He has to be careful, can't have too many victims disappear from Cardiff, but it's not as if anyone would suspect him. He'd done an excellent job expressing horror at the thought of being a killer. He wraps a stocking from tonight's girl round his wrist and replays the whole scene in his mind as he strokes his dick. The pay as you go phone he'd made the booking with is in the bay and the escort, the prey, is in one of the more remote parts of the Brecon Beacons. He'd enjoyed her fear as she realised he wasn't taking her to a hotel, the panic when she tried futilely to open the door.

He'd had to pull over to gag her, so she'd stop telling him all about her family as if that would matter. When they'd arrived in his own personal killing field, he'd pretended to be looking for something in the boot so she could _escape_. They always tried to run, some survival instinct. He always caught them though and her scream when he'd taken the gag off was music to his ears. He feels the sensation build as he remembers tackling her to the ground, straddling her and covering her mouth. Then the best part, the knife piercing her flesh and warm blood sticky on his fingers. Summer kills were risky but it stayed brighter later and he could see everything. The two winter girls had bled nicely but it wasn't the same. He takes great care to valet the Torchwood SUV every time and to wipe the girls down so there's no prints but he won't be fully tested until a body is discovered.

He'd had to take her shoes, in case she'd picked up carpet fibres. However he doesn't keep trophies like some idiot whose compulsion to horde trinkets overrides their own sense of self-preservation. He doesn't need the acclaim, doesn't want it and he sure as hell isn't secretly wanting to be caught, no matter what pretend FBI agents say on TV. He'll dispose of the shoes tomorrow and the stockings too.

His strokes get quicker as he recalls the heat of her blood on his hand, her cries for help and quiet whimpers as she died. He bites his lip as he urges himself on and strokes himself slowly through his orgasm. He cleans himself off with the stocking after untying it and drops it on the floor. Looking at his nails, he runs his thumb over the blood collected there and smiles. He can't wait to go into work tomorrow and be the perfect employee that he's been playing since they found out about Lisa.


End file.
